


Scooby Doo and the Beast of Beacon Hills!

by terminallybored



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beacon Hills is no place for the plucky and intrepid, Crossover, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Slime and Reptiles, Sterek Week 2018, Sterekscooby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminallybored/pseuds/terminallybored
Summary: There's a lizard man running around the forest of Beacon Hills and like, Stiles and Derek probably need help with that! Let's crack this mystery, gang!





	Scooby Doo and the Beast of Beacon Hills!

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of Sterek Week 2018  
> Theme: Scooby-Wolf

They make it to the animal clinic just in time. Maybe. Jackson isn’t thrashing around in the back of the Jeep anymore, so there’s actually a decent possibility that he’s just dead. Things trying to kill them never just up and die, though, so Stiles isn’t banking on that. “Hurry up. Hurry up and get him before he wakes up or… hatches or… fucking whatever! Just get him!”

Derek doesn’t need the shove Stiles gives him to make his exit from the car, already rushing around to open the hatch in the back. Stiles climbs out of the car with his bat, squinting at the fluorescent lights shining inside. At this hour the parking lot is empty except for…

Oh shit.

“No.” Stiles catches Derek’s shoulders as he tries to carry Jackson in his slimy cocoon to the door, turning him back to the Jeep. “No, can’t do it. We can’t be here. Put him back in the car, we gotta go.”

Derek turns right back around, of course, raising his eyebrows. “Stiles.” He proffers Jackson, and a fat globule of slime rolls off his skin coffin as if to emphasize Derek’s point. It splatters against the pavement and Stiles’ shoe.

“Gross.” Stiles shakes his foot, trying to kick it off because his dad will kill him if his nightly exploits ruin yet another pair of shoes. “Dude, I’m serious, we-” But when he looks back up, Derek is shouldering the door open and disappearing into the clinic. “Derek!” Stiles chases after him, skidding slightly on the linoleum from the slippery residue on his shoe.

“Did you see that weird van in the parking lot?” Derek asks, probably so Stiles doesn’t start rambling off bad ideas to get them back out of the clinic. “I think there are stoners here.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Close enough. “Which means there are people here, Derek. How do we explain the human-size pod you’re carrying?”

“We don’t. We get him into the back room and let everyone else stay in their lane.”

They make it to the back cleanly, and Stiles almost lets himself think they’re only going to have to deal with their original crisis. Derek dumps his failed beta onto the metal table and shakes the goop off his arms as he crosses to the door that leads to ‘the back,’ where doctors and vets always disappear to for long periods. “Deaton!” He hammers the door with a fist. “We got him here, but we need some help. Now, he’s pretty far along!”

Stiles makes himself get his head back in the game as he begins examining the tools that were left out on the tray beside the table. His hand hovers over a scalpel. “Should we just start cutting it open to get him out?”

“Zoinks!”

Shit.

Stiles grimaces and looks over, offering to sell his soul to literally anything that’s listening if it could just not be…

“Hi Norville,” he sighs. Because of course. The hippie van, the pitchy voice… it could only be this. The night obviously wasn’t going poorly enough.

“Like… what the heck is that thing, man?”

Derek looks back and forth between Stiles and the lanky guy in a drab green shirt. “Uh… Stiles, who is this?”

“This is Norville-”

“Name’s Shaggy. And man, that's one freaky looking dog issue you've got going on there.” Shaggy leans back, one hand catching the doorframe as he yells down the hall. “Scoob! Hey Scoob, c’mere!”

“Stiles, what the hell?” Derek whispers, watching Shaggy as he leans his head close to Stiles. “I thought you said I’d met all the weird relatives.”

“Yeah, mine,” Stiles hisses. “This one is Scott’s.”

“Scoob, check this out, man!” Shaggy comes into the room, flanked by a large brown Great Dane with black spots. “Isn’t it weird? It’s like an alien pod!” The dog follows Shaggy over to the cocoon. Shaggy dips a finger into the slime and lifts it, watching it stretch and drip back down onto the table. “Ever seen anything like this?”

The dog sniffs at the cocoon.

“You’re right, man. This is some freaky stuff.”

“Stiles, is he… talking to the dog?” Derek asks, keeping his voice low and moving to stand slightly in front of Stiles.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does that.” Stiles pats Derek’s shoulder. He appreciates the shield and all, but he’s a little more worried about Jackson popping out and eating Shaggy’s face. He pokes his head around Derek. “Shaggy, uh… this is a vet emergency. Aren’t you here to see Scott?”

“Did this thing like… eat your dog, Stiles?” Shaggy asks, wiping his finger on his pants and leaving a slick streak. Oh god, the ascot friend is gonna be pissed if that gets in the van.

“Uh… yes,” Stiles says, because he doesn’t have a better explanation for what’s going on here. “But the vet is gonna fix him. Let’s go find Scott.” And get Shaggy the hell out of the room. Derek can babysit the cocoon until Stiles can ditch Shaggy with Scott. And maybe they can rig up some kind of door lock for insurance. “What are you doing here, man? Is Scooby okay?”

“Oh yeah, Scoob is fine.” Shaggy pats the massive dog’s neck, letting Stiles steer him down the hall. Scooby jams his nose under Stiles’ arm, looking for attention from him as well. “We’re here getting his nephew checked out. We were in the neighborhood when the little guy picked up a tick.”

“Oh. Scooby has a sister?” Stiles asks, then shakes his head. “You know what, never mind. Uh… introduce me.”

“Sure thing, man.” Shaggy heads directly for one of the smaller exam rooms where there’s a lot of barking. An excessive amount of barking, really. Shaggy pushes open the door, revealing Scott engaged in a struggle with a brown Miniature Pinscher. It appears to be trying to remove Scott’s face for the indignity of ear drops.

“Like, calm down, Scrappy. We’ll be on the road in no time.” Shaggy ambles in with Scooby at his side. The Pinscher, which is most definitely not Scooby’s cousin, plants his butt on the table and howls. “I know, I’m starving too. Hey Scott, got anything to eat around here?”

“Uh, there’s a vending machine in- Stiles!” Scott startles and then immediately puts on his kicked puppy face. Stiles just crosses his arms in the doorway. He’s immune to that face by now. Once too often to that well, Scottie. Once too often.

“Hey, Scott. I didn’t know Shaggy was here,” he says, raising his eyebrows and letting his expression fill in the end with ‘because you didn’t fucking tell me and you knew we were coming and you still let him go wandering around the animal clinic all free range.’

“I… yeah… he… I was super surprised too.” Scott stammers, adjusting his hold on Scrappy. “How’s Jackson?”

“Is Jackson your dog?” Shaggy asks. He looks at Scooby, who says absolutely nothing. Because he’s a dog. “No, man, that was Derek. The one Stiles is always fighting with.”

“Fully cocooned,” Stiles says shortly. “And I need to get back.”

“Right! You go,” Scott agrees immediately. “Shag, come help me hold this guy down. He just needs a few drops to sterilize where the tick was.”

Stiles turns to head back down the hall, satisfied that Scott will keep Shaggy busy and get him back on the road before things go sideways. He makes it two steps before the sound of crashing metal comes from the large room in the back. And then more metal crashing around. Stiles is already running for the back when he hears the telltale smashing of glass.

He yanks open the door. Too late, of course. It’s the exact mess he expected, the exam table on its side, the metal instruments scattered on the floor. One scalpel is embedded in the wall. Stiles rushes to crouch beside where Derek is crumpled on the floor.

“Hey. Talk to me,” he says, tapping the side of Derek’s face. “Come on. What happened?” Though the split remnants of the cocoon, laying open like a banana peel in a puddle of clear goo, really tells him everything he needs to know.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Derek groans, opening his eyes and lifting his head just enough to look at the shattered window in the back of the room. He sighs and drops it back down. “He’s out.”

“Yeah, I guessed that part.” Stiles wraps Derek’s arm around his shoulders. “Come on, we gotta go after him. Can you stand?”

“Of course I can stand,” Derek growls, even as he slumps most of his weight against Stiles to manage it.

“Like, holy cow!” Shaggy pokes his head into the room and Stiles groans internally. “Stiles! Someone stole your dog!”

Shaggy passes right by Derek as the deep claw marks in his side seal themselves up, steps over the cocoon… skin, and goes right to the window, looking out into the night. Scooby follows and stops to sniff the slime, pulling his head back and snorting with some of it sticks to his nose. Scrappy runs back and forth under Shaggy’s feet and barks.

“Stiles! Are you… oh shit, Derek, are _you_ okay?” Scott skids to a stop in the doorway, still holding the bottle of eardrops in one hand.

“Fine.” Derek shifts a shoulder, making something pop back into place. “Just get your cousin out of here. We have to go after Jackson.”

* * *

 

Derek ends up in a dark red Beacon Hills High lacrosse t-shirt from Stiles’ gym bag because ‘what if that thing can smell blood, Derek? Did we ever establish it couldn’t?’ And Stiles ends up with his Jeep parked on the edge of the woods, headlights shining in to light their way as far as possible, trudging into the goddamn void with only his bat and a werewolf. Again. This happens too often in his life. 

“Is that the last of the weird family members?” Derek asks, keeping his voice low.

“I told you, he’s Scott’s cousin. Not mine,” Stiles says again.

“You always say Scott is your brother, so he’s pretty much your cousin too.”

Stiles groans. He really doesn’t want that to be any form of sort-of true. “Why would you say something like that? That’s so rude.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not, and also, it’s super unimportant right now,” Stiles hisses. “We need to find Jax before…” There are literally too many bad scenarios. Before he kills someone. Before he figures out he has fucking wings and flies away. Before another of Beacon Hills’ resident psychopaths becomes its master. If it can even imprint anymore. Stiles is super unclear on what the fuck Jackson actually is these days. “Before anything can happen. Literally anything. We need for nothing to happen.”

Something cuts across the beam from the headlights, blocking them out for a second. Stiles and Derek both turn at the same time. Derek holds up a hand and Stiles freezes in place, straining his human ears against the normal sounds of the forest. He can’t pick up anything strange there, but Derek doesn’t move. He tilts his head slightly, turning an ear toward the forest behind them.

“De-”

“Run.” Derek barely has the word out before Stiles feels a hard arm crash into his abdomen as Derek half-drags and half-carries him back towards the Jeep.

“What?” Behind them, Stiles can hear footsteps now, like Derek making a run for it has spurred the damn thing into not giving a fuck about being quiet. “Shit, is that Jackson?” Stiles finds his footing and picks up the pace, almost on stride with Derek. If that is Jackson, he’s on the offensive tonight.

The footsteps get faster. Heavier.

Closer.

They break free from the treeline and Stiles makes a beeline for his Jeep, trying to pull his keys out of his pocket without dropping his bat. Claws click against the rocks and sticks on the ground, and Stiles only just hears to hissing before Derek shoves him against the Jeep, one hand on either side of him. Stiles cringes as the kanima screams and braces for impact.

_BAM_

Tires squeal and the kanima squalls as it goes flying into the woods.

It takes Stiles a second to realize that sound wasn’t Jackson slamming into them. He slowly looks around Derek to see the hippie van, with Shaggy’s ascot friend leaning out the driver’s side window.

“Woah! Did you guys see that thing?”

“Like, it looked like a lizard man!” Shaggy says from the back.

Stiles struggles to remember names as the woman with glasses, sitting between Ascot and Redhead, shakes her head and sighs. “Please. That was a mask. And not a very good one, at that.”

“Did you guys just-”

“Scare that awful lizard man away? We sure did,” Redhead says as the trio in front spills out of the van and immediately goes around the back.

“No, I’m pretty sure you hit him,” Stiles says, running a finger over the bumper of the van. His finger squeaks against the metal and comes back covered in clear goo. Gross.

“Yeah, we scared him good, didn’t we?” Shaggy agrees, handing out flashlights to the rest of the gang. He laughs and slings an arm around Scooby. “You said it, Scoob!”

Scooby says nothing. Scrappy runs around everyone’s feet, barking.

“Alright, gang. Let's go find this mystery monster!” Ascot brandishes his flashlight in front of him like a sword and they all walk together into the woods, staying in a weirdly tight group. None of them turn on their flashlights.

“Who the hell are they?” Derek asks, watching them shuffle off into the woods.

“Shaggy’s friends. No idea how they found each other.” Stiles digs around the back of the van and finds another flashlight, clicking it on and off to test the batteries. “Not sure if this is like a _folie a quatre_ situation or what.”

“Hm. Your French is getting better.”

“Aw, thanks Sourwolf. But it actually came from a criminal psychology paper.” Stiles slams the back of the van shut. “Come on. Jackson sounded pissed. And Melissa will kill us all if Shaggy gets eaten in Beacon Hills.” There were standards, after all. If family was visiting this creepy little town, then the one with the lycanthropy affliction was supposed to keep them safe. And since Scott wasn’t here right now, that became Stiles’ job instead.

* * *

 

It’s not exactly hard to find ‘the gang.’ They’re not quiet as they tromp through the woods. Stiles barely has his flashlight on before Derek is grabbing his arm and hauling him through the woods.

“Dude, you’re dragging me over every branch in the place,” Stiles hisses. 

“I know,” Derek growls. “Maybe if we can be louder than Scott’s idiot cousin and his friends, Jackson will come after us instead of just picking them off one by one.”

Stiles winces as a particularly dry branch snaps under his sneaker and crackles as he shifts his weight on it. “Okay, but isn’t this just a little excessive?” In the distance, Scrappy starts barking again, shrill and agitated. And shrill. Stiles sighs. “Guess not.”

Derek stops and pulls Stiles against his side to force him to stop too. He’s got his head tipped again, listening. Footsteps. Scrappy barking. The distant sounds of Shaggy and his friends making no effort to whisper. Derek doesn’t move.

Something hisses and Derek breaks out into a sprint. Stiles stumbles forward at the sudden loss of the body he was mashed up against, tripping on a tree root.

Scrappy’s barking sounds pissed now. And it's matched by Scooby’s deeper barking, and a lot of other yelling. Stiles swears and scrambles to his feet, aiming his flashlight ahead and choking up the bat in his other hand as he runs into the woods, following the direction Derek went. He can’t see him in the woods with only his single beam of light to search with, but it’s not hard to find the other humans. Four flashlight beams are waving around the forest like a laser light show as they shout and trip over each other.

“What’s going on?” Stiles yells as he shoves his way into the thick of them, shining his flashlight around the underbrush. “Did you find Jackson?”

“Who’s Jackson?” Redhead cries, shining her flashlight around her feet.

“The lizard guy. Just… what happened, what did you see?”

“The lizard guy took Scrappy!” Glasses points to where the trees begin to thin out. Stiles thinks he can hear barking and hissing, but with all the other noise, maybe not. “Scooby ran after him!”

“And Shaggy ran after Scooby!” Ascot’s head jerks up as Derek howls from the spot Glasses was waving at. “What was that??”

“He’s with me. You guys stay here,” Stiles calls over his shoulder, breaking into a run. He just barely avoids tripping on the larger tree roots that catch his flashlight beam. The sounds of barking get louder.

The sound of growling gets louder. Really fast. Stiles skids to a halt just in time to see Derek go flying through the air past him, crashing into a tree several yards back.

“Derek!”

“Watch the tail,” Derek snarls, sounding more pissed than hurt. “It’s got spikes now.”

“Roger.” Stiles sprints into the clearing, hoping Derek will be close behind. He can’t leave Jackson alone with… well, anyone.

In the clearing, Scooby is barking and snarling, running back and forth in front of Scrappy, who’s barking his head off, which isn’t at all new or alarming. What is alarming, though, is that Scrappy seems to be… going backwards. Stiles shines his flashlight on him, sees him clawing at the ground while being pulled steadily back by a rope… a long, pink, slimy rope around his middle. Stiles moves his flashlight along the ‘rope’ and wishes he hadn’t. The kanima, fully evolved, is backing up towards the clearing, flexing wings that are still wet from hatching. It lowers its head and cracks its jaw, which unhinges and falls open wide. Wide enough for a Miniature Pinscher.

Gross.

Stiles drops his flashlight and rushes the kanima. “Sorry, Jax!” he says, and even kind of means it as he brings the bat down hard on the kanima’s back. It squalls and flexes its muscles, trying to use its wings to shove Stiles away long enough for it to finish snacking. “Super sorry, dude.” Stiles slams the bat down again, aiming for the bony line of the spine where the thick muscles aren’t encasing it.

He hits it a third time and something cracks. The kanima releases Scrappy and drags its prehensile tongue back into its mouth, shaking its head to crack the jaw back into place so it can scream in rage. Scrappy immediately makes a lunge for the giant lizard beast.

“Scrappy, no!” Stiles catches his collar and hauls him back, which costs him his good grip on his bat. Scooby is getting closer too, barking and crouching like he’s going to attack, then retreating. Unlike Scrappy, who wants to throw himself at the kanima. “Derek! Derek, can Jackson heal?” Stiles yells, jabbing his bat into the kanima’s face without waiting for an answer.

Instead of answering, Derek slams his full weight into the kanima, sending them both sprawling into the bushes.

“Shit.” Stiles shoves Scrappy back into Scott's arms. “Scottie, hold this, I need to help D-” Stiles blinks as his brain blips out. “Wait, Scott? What the hell are you doing here?”

Scott hefts Scrappy into his arms. “We came to help. Deaton is right behind me.”

“Dude!” Stiles snatches Scrappy away. “Go help Derek, you’re the one with the healing factor.”

“Right, sorry!” Scott flicks his claws out and runs into the snarling mess in the deeper underbrush.

* * *

 

Even though Stiles can hear Deaton yelling for them to wait, the gang makes it into the clearing before him. Ascot is dragging Shaggy along.

“That man poisoned Shaggy!” Glasses says, brandishing a finger at the snarling, thrashing kanima currently being pinned under both Derek and Scott.

Redhead stamps a foot, clenching her fists at her side. “You stop with the games and tell us how to fix him!”

“Guys, you need to stand back,” Stiles says, trying to herd them backwards. Derek and Scott have the wings pinned, and part of the tail, but it’s fucking long and the spiked ball on the end is still thrashing wildly. “Just wait for Deaton.”

“It’s time to see who the lizard man really is, and make him answer for his crimes!” Glasses strides right past Stiles and grabs ahold of the kanima’s face, completely nonplussed by the gnashing teeth and the guttural snarling.

“Velma, stop!” Scott pulls his claws back in and tries to nudge her away from the kanima, who proceeds to only get more pissed as she yanks on its face.

“I said not to move him!” Deaton calls, hurrying through the trees after them. Danny follows right on his heels. “The poison will wear off on its own!”

“Jax!” Danny calls. “Knock it off, man!”

“Velma, quit pulling! It’s not-”

Glasses/Velma suddenly falls backwards, landing hard on her butt and holding her prize over her head. “Ah ha! It was… it was…” She looks at Scott for help. “Sorry, we usually meet more people before the monster chase. Who is this?”

Stiles feels his stomach flip-flop at the sight of Jackson’s face, wet and slippery and sort of pinkish while the rest of him is still mostly lizard, even if the scales are starting to recede. That’s gonna be in his nightmares for a while. “Oh god.” He looks at the flap of slimy skin in Velma’s hands, with holes where the eyes and mouth were. “Oh god, is he shedding his skin or something?”

“Kind of,” Danny says, hurrying over to help Jackson up as things start to crack back into place for a more human shape.

* * *

 

Stiles sits on the back of the van, watching Danny and Deaton load Jackson into the back of Deaton’s car, naked and slimy and with the occasional scale still hanging on.

“So. Jackson is still a kanima,” Stiles says.

“Yep,” Derek says beside him.

“But we also already fixed him so he’s also a werewolf.”

“Yep.”

“And Danny like… owns the kanima part?” The van jostles a little as Derek shrugs beside him, just as confused as Stiles is. “Man, your first Beta is a mess. No offense.”

“No, he seriously is,” Derek groans.

“Like, man, this has been a weird one,” Shaggy says, coming up to lean on the back of the van and pat Stiles’ back. “I’m sorry the lizard man stole your dog, Stiles.”

“Uh… thanks, Shaggy,” Stiles says, because it’s just easier. “How’re you feeling after that uh… poison gas, or whatever he hit you with?”

“Like, I’m gonna find me the biggest burger in this town, and then I’ll be totally fine.” Shaggy snaps his fingers. “Hey. we can help you look for your dog. Like, just point us to the nearest motel, man, and we’ll set up camp.”

“No!” Stiles clears his throat and shakes his head with a little less… vigor. “No thanks, man. I’m sure the cops will get that out of the lizard man.”

“Gang! We got a call about an abandoned fairground!” Ascot calls, marching back to the van, flanked by Velma and Redhead.

“My uncle is trying to re-open the park.” Redhead plants her hands on her hips. “But his workers keep getting scared off by a ghost clown.”

“There’s no phone signal out here,” Derek mutters and Stiles just shakes his head, patting Derek’s back.

“I know.” Stiles isn’t actually sure any of them even have a cell phone. “Just let it go, it’s a natural process,” he says, climbing out of the van with Derek. Shaggy loads Scrappy, who’s still barking, into the back. Scooby hops inside, making the shocks squeak slightly.

“Alright man, looks like we’re off.” Shaggy sighs. “Another ghost they’re probably gonna make Scoob and me the bait for.”

“I uh… think you’ll be okay, man. You already faced the lizard man and won,” Stiles says. “I’ll tell Scott you’ve gone after a ghost clown.”

The back doors of the van slam shut and Ascot honks the horn twice, waving out the window as he pulls back onto the dirt road leading out of the woods. Stiles waves after him and elbows Derek to do the same.

“They’re going to get themselves killed.”

Yeah… Stiles can’t deny that the plucky, intrepid attitude will only go so far. “They’ll stand a better chance outside of Beacon Hills, at least. Our monsters are all real.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't @ me on this. The showrunners are the ones who decided at the 11th hour that Jackson is still a kanima. And a werewolf. I don't make the rules.


End file.
